


Words and Notes

by out_there



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-24
Updated: 2005-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>At his core, Rodney is words: imaginative and entrancing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Words and Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/) for betaing. A late entry for [](http://scribblinlenore.livejournal.com/profile)[**scribblinlenore**](http://scribblinlenore.livejournal.com/)'s [Pucker Up: The Multifandom Mini Challenge](http://www.livejournal.com/users/scribblinlenore/225075.html).

Before flying became as important as breathing and as thrilling as sex, before numbers and math became an easy A+, John had wanted to be a writer. He wanted to write a great novel: not one that would sell well, not one that would be popular, but one that would be remembered.

When he was twelve, he spent a year with his pencil and notepad in his pocket, always ready for inspiration. If he found the perfect sentence, he wanted to write it down and protect it from being lost.

The notepad was full of doodles and words, a child's attempt to record the color of sunlight, the smell of summer. All clumsy syntax and bad spelling, it was the opposite of what he wanted it to be: clear, moving, brilliant.

Then he'd discovered algebra and calculus. Numbers were clearer, simpler, more fundamentally *true*. He didn't have the words to describe the sharp chill of a winter breeze striking his face, but he had the numbers to detail its velocity, direction and wind-chill.

So he abandoned his notebook for graph paper.

***

McKay is a physicist -- "Astrophysicist," Rodney happily points out, "and one of the leading minds in my field" -- but there's a big difference between a theoretical and a mathematical one.

John's always thought of brilliant scientists in numeric terms, all equations and insightful formulas, but Rodney's nothing like that. Rodney is fast and loud, full of hyperbole and clever insults. He may study science, may find the saving equation, but at his core, Rodney is words: imaginative and entrancing.

He makes John feel twelve again, gawky and fumbling for the right words, uncertainly stumbling over his own tongue. John's a good-looking guy who knows how to charm people into his bed; he hasn't been uncertain for years.

The one consolation is that they're in a new galaxy, surrounded by brand-new enemies and dangers. Amongst all the excitement, John doubts his uncertainty has even been noticed.

***

One of those new dangers is a carnivorous plant that uses purple flowers to poison its prey. They find it on MX3-746. John remembers being dragged back to the jumper -- Teyla and Ronon on either side of him -- before he passes out.

He wakes up in the medlab. It's dimly lit, indicating night-time, and it isn't until he shifts, and McKay grabs his arm, that he notices Rodney sitting beside him.

"You're fine. Carson said it was a mild tranquilizer. It'll wear off completely by morning," McKay says, using his other hand to rub sleepily at his eyes. He looks crumpled and tired. "You know, I'd tell you to stop doing this stuff -- this stuff that ends up with you in the infirmary, and Carson muttering under his breath -- but I'm smart enough to know that wouldn't do any good."

"Go to bed," John says, soft and drowsy. It's not really an order, so he isn't surprised that Rodney ignores it.

"You're not my usual type, you know." A dry, warm thumb starts tracing over the bones of John's wrist. It's almost mesmerizing the way that Rodney doesn't meet John's eyes. "I don't mean the military thing because, frankly, I have a weakness for intelligent air-force personnel. I mean you. You're all angular and sharp. Not physically -- well, okay, your face does have a certain angular length to it, which isn't precisely unattractive -- but you're, like, the sharp sign on a note. You take these ordinary, mundane things and make them striking and vivid. In a mess hall of marines, you're the one that stands out, humming a little higher than the rest."

Words, John thinks as McKay pulls his pulls his hand back and stands up. Rodney is always words. Even when Rodney leans over and kisses him, it's imprecise as a cliché, with Rodney's mouth landing on the top corner of John's lips, soft and eloquent and meaningful.

Adjusting his positioning, Rodney kisses him again, his lower lip sliding between John's. Rodney sucks on John's upper lip relentlessly, trapping him between the hardness of teeth and the mobility of tongue. His fingers grab onto Rodney's arms, the back of Rodney's wide neck, and it takes a moment for John to realize those pleading, begging sounds are his.

Rodney presses one quick kiss to John's lower lip -- as if he's trying to be equally affectionate, which is a thought that makes John smile -- and leans away. Sliding a finger over John's jaw, Rodney straightens up. "Carson said you're going to be groggy for a few hours, and I'm really not one to take advantage of someone in an altered state."

John doesn't think the drugs are to blame: his rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath are all Rodney's doing. "It wouldn't be taking advantage."

When Rodney smiles, his eyes crinkle up and John can see the inquisitive, brilliant child Rodney must have been. "I'm not a fan of the semi-public thing either. Especially not when nurses will be checking in on you."

"So we'll continue this later," John says, his weariness creeping up and ambushing him. He covers his mouth out of habit, yawning against the back of his fingers.

Rodney nods. "Now get some rest." Then he leaves, like the perfect phrase fading from memory, but his gestures, his smile, his kiss remains clear in John's mind, like the twisting end of a great book.

John thinks about stories and endings as he settles into the bed and rearranges pillows. He falls asleep convinced that this will have a happily ever after.  



End file.
